


Write Me a Letter

by NedandChuck



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Reuniting, Set in S4, jon being secretly and hopelessly romantic, martin typical pining (but from jon), noncanonical lonely loopholes, the background relationships are daisira and vague helenie, they write each other notes and fall deeply in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NedandChuck/pseuds/NedandChuck
Summary: Martin is trapped by the Lonely, but Jon's not gonna let that stop him from bugging the shit out of him.(Not that Martin actually minds.)





	Write Me a Letter

It starts when Jon can’t find a file he needs. The last time he remembers seeing it was when he gave it to Martin before… Well, before everything went down. His excuse is flimsy at best, and he isn’t really even fooling himself – even though he really doesn’t know where the file is, he could always Look and Know – but he’s desperate for contact with the only other remaining member of his original team.

No one has ever pretended that Jonathan Sims isn’t a stubborn bastard.

It’s as formal as he ever is, just a yellow post-it note:

_‘Martin-_

_I cannot find statement 4193-J. If you know of its whereabouts, please get it back to me._

_Jonathan’_

As casually as if he hasn’t rewritten it on the eight other post-its littering the floor by his desk. He takes it to Martin’s desk and hesitates for a moment before pressing it to his computer screen and returning to his work.

After becoming close with Daisy and considering his reconnection with Georgie, Jon had assumed he wouldn’t miss Martin as much. The man had made his own choice to leave the Archives, made it very clear that he does not want any further contact with anyone who might remind him of his old job, and is honestly probably much safer under the direct supervision of Peter Lukas. Probably safer, at least, but Jon doesn’t like to think of the fact that the reality may be very much the opposite.

Instead though, his newfound friendships only seem to spur him into getting Martin to talk to him again. To prove to him that he is now worthy of Martin’s friendship, that all of the care he showed to Jon wasn’t for nothing and does not go unappreciated. Not anymore, at the very least. Whoever first said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, while correct, couldn’t possibly have understood the extent of what Jon is feeling.

His back is barely turned for a minute to shuffle papers on the other side of his desk, but when he turns around, there sits the file with a cartoon bear themed post-it stuck to it that reads, _‘Jon. Stop doing risky things,’_ in a scrawl that is so familiar it makes his heart ache.

He carries on with his day and tries not to think about it with relative success until Daisy comes to sit with him for lunch. She picks up a note he had missed when cleaning up his drafts of the one Jon had written.

 _“Martin,”_ she reads aloud, _“It’s been a while, and we miss you. Would you happen to know where-“_

She doesn’t say anything else about the scribbles that block the rest of the sentence, only gives him a smirk that reminds him a lot of when she used to want to kill him.

Indignantly, Jon eats his salad and flips a page in his novel. The two of them have instituted a no-work rule during their lunches together, which both of them still struggle to follow even though they both realize it is a good idea for their mental wellbeing. Jon struggles not to be petty and point out that she is walking a dangerously close line to breaking that rule.

“Really, Jon,” she finally sighs when she realizes he isn’t going to acknowledge it, “You’re getting awfully desperate.”

“I don’t know what makes you think that,” Jon sniffs, “I was just trying to figure out where an important document was in order to _do my job.”_

Daisy hums disbelievingly around her sandwich, “And you weren’t able to simply Know where it was?”

“I suppose not,” he refuses to make eye contact, willing her to drop the conversation without Willing it. For a long moment they eat in silence, and he hopes in vain that she’s given up when she suddenly continues.

“You’re allowed to miss him.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Martin. Jon, I know better than anyone how much it hurts to be apart from someone. Especially because of a Power. Even if it’s just to me, you can admit that you miss him.”

Jon hesitates, taking in the sincere expression that he never could have expected from Daisy half a year ago. Softly, he says, “That’s not- You and Basira… It’s not the same thing, Daisy.”

“Are you sure?”

The question is so steady and abrupt that it takes him back for a moment. Is he sure of what? He and Martin hadn’t ever had the kind of relationship that Daisy and Basira have. The women have been together for years before, during, and after Daisy’s foray with the Hunt and whatever it is that Basira is currently going through. They live together and know each other on a level that the secret side of Jon that lives for the romantic things in life can really only dream of. As much as he had wanted that kind of relationship for them- and by he, Jon of course means Martin, he doesn’t have any sort of romantic feelings for his former assistant. Not any that he has the courage to acknowledge in the front of his mind yet. Jon takes a shaky breath to steel himself.

“I can’t deal with any revelations about feelings right now,” is what comes out of his mouth instead of the outright dismissal he had planned, “I can’t, Daisy. Not when I can’t even talk to him or _see him.”_

“Oh Jon,” her sympathy doesn’t sound condescending like he might expect, but there is something in her tone that implies he is being a dumbass. It is a tone he is deeply familiar with. “As much as I want to make fun of you for being so oblivious, I can understand where you’re coming from. When I first met Basira, it was my first day in the precinct where we ended up working together. I wanted her attention so badly but didn’t understand the specific _way_ that I wanted it, so I spent the longest time thinking we were rivals and trying to one-up her. It took about nine months and her kissing me to realize hey, all this time I just really wanted her to be my girlfriend.”

Despite himself, Jon laughs, which makes Daisy grin back.

“Jon,” she continues, a hard look in her eye, “there’s nothing wrong with you realizing anything just because the moment isn’t really opportune.”

“I suppose,” he answers, completely unconvinced but glad of the support. Sighing, he looks around the room as if Martin is hiding in the shadows – and really, with the way the Lonely operates, it wouldn’t be a terrible surprise, but Jon Knows that he isn’t with them before he even begins, “I could also suppose that you’re right, but there’s not really anything to be done about it now.”

“Well, they say that acceptance is the first step,” Daisy cuts herself off with a smirk when Jon shoots her a withering look. She finishes her lunch and opens her mouth to speak again as she leans back in her chair to throw out her wrapper, only to snap it closed as she drops it in the wastebasket and level Jon with a knowing look. “Exactly how many drafts of one simple note did you write, Jon?”

“Alright,” he clears his throat and turns back to his pile of papers, sliding his own empty bowl off his desk and into the trash to cover up anything incriminating, “Back to work, please.”

Already used to his usual attempts at professionalism to escape emotional conversations, Daisy is unphased as she reads out, “Mr. Blackwood, how have you been-“  
_“Daisy,”_ Jon tries to snap, but it comes out as more of a whine, making her laugh and toss the last of her rubbish before standing.

“Thanks for lunch, Jon, be seein’ you.” Daisy leans over and ruffles his hair with the chaotic energy of a loving older sister. Jon makes a noise in protest and ducks out from under her hand too late to avoid any damage, glaring after her as she leaves and shuts the door.

The next time he scrawls a message on a post-it, Jon has his conversation with Daisy on his mind. Maybe he is doing this for selfish reasons, and maybe he knew that all along, but realizing that what he is about to do is stupid has never stopped him before, and it won’t stop him now. Especially not with Martin on the line.

_‘Martin,_

_Please tell Lukas that he needs to get back to me about the budgets I emailed him. I can’t find him and he refuses to answer any other sort of message I send him. The lonely schtick can only go so far if he actually expects to maintain a business._

_Jon’_

The reply takes significantly longer than the last one, which Jon suspects has to do with Martin having to go and talk to Lukas and convince him to make himself known for even a second. Late in the evening, Jon returns to his desk with a mug of mediocre tea when he sees a notification for a new email and a sticky note in the corner of his desktop screen.

 _‘Jon, I know what you’re doing._ Please, _try and be careful._

_Hope I helped, though.’_

In spite of himself, Jon grins and opens the email. He can count on one hand the number of times Lukas has contacted him directly and has the distinct thought that Martin can be incredibly capable when he puts his mind to something.  It’s one of the many things Jon would like to slap his self from a couple of years ago over, but it isn’t like he is making particularly better decisions now, they are just less self-serving. Maybe not even that, he thinks as he taps his pen against his notepad, thinking of all of the things he wants to say to Martin but can’t. It can be argued that Martin hadn’t actually asked him to stop, just to look out for himself, and until he is told to stop altogether, Jon plans to chase the little jolts of happiness he’s gotten when he sees Martin’s old familiar penmanship.

Three days later, he finds a perfectly legitimate excuse to leave another note at the man’s desk.

_‘Martin,_

_I have not had a decent cup of tea in almost a year. How exactly did you make yours?_

_Jon’_

Just before two, he’s startled from his work when a cartoon bear-covered post-it note falls in front of him, the glue on the back made useless by the steam from the mug it had been attached to. _‘Alright, Jon, you stubborn bastard’_ was the only personal note before a squashed little list of instructions. Jon settles in and sighs, content as he takes a long drink from the mug and resumes his work. Maybe it’s his eyes playing tricks on him, but he swears he notices a little rustle by the door.

Cups of tea in the afternoon become a regular part of his day, occasionally accompanied by little notes that say, _‘eat something, too,’_ and once a sandwich wrapped neatly beside the mug. Jon feels taken care of in a way he hasn’t since he worked directly with Martin, and it stings a bit that he is unable to return the favor.

So he does what he can with the limited social graces he has been blessed with.

_‘Martin, today I saw a dog on the way to work and he reminded me of you. We still can’t have one in the office, but I thought you would really like him._

_Jon’_

_‘Martin, we went out for drinks tonight, but I spent the entire night wondering what it would have been like if you had been able to join us._

_Jon’_

_‘Martin, sometime, I want to take you out for drinks.’_

The replies become more bold as time went on without visible consequences of Jon’s actions. He receives doodles of dogs, little stories about his day, rants about Peter, and finally:

_‘Once we save the world and figure everything out, I might even let you buy me a drink.’_

The note is still on his desk when Daisy joins him for lunch, and though she is usually very careful to let Jon keep his privacy, she seems to accidentally read it before slowly turning her eyes up to meet Jon’s.

“I take it your plan to pass notes like grade-schoolers is going well, then?”

Jon bristles, “It’s not a _plan,_ Daisy, just a development.”

She hums in disbelief but lets him change the subject and doesn’t bring it up again that day.

The notes become conversational, Jon brings up a time he spends with Georgie and the Admiral and Martin goes from talking about podcasts he likes to music. He draws a little smiley face and makes fun of Jon for starting and becoming invested in The Archers, which starts them on their standards of quality for storytelling.

Eventually, Jon manages to pen a note that ends with, _‘I miss you.’_ It’s become normal for them to exchange two or three notes a day, but after that he doesn’t get anything until the next morning.

_‘Jon, I know it’s frustrating, especially considering I can’t explain what I’m doing, but I need you to believe I know what I’m doing. I need you to trust me. Please.’_

The answer is, obviously, and immediate, _‘Of course, Martin. I can’t say that I’m not worried, or that I can approve of this plan – seeing as I know nothing about it – but I do trust you. That will never be an issue.’_

It almost feels too personal, even though Jon realizes that they have been talking fairly intimately for some time. Still, it’s a vulnerable thing to admit, and he finds himself nervously shuffling papers until the reply comes.

_‘Thank you. That means more to me than you know. I miss you, too.’_

Except that Jon is fairly certain he knows exactly how much it means, because he’s also fairly certain it means as much as Martin’s trust does to him. He’s sure it’s presumptuous of him to assume that year old office gossip might hold some sort of truth now, but he’s riding a bit high on the possible implications of Martin’s reply when he puts pen to paper. Aside from Daisy and Georgie, Martin has a better insight into Jon’s state of mind than anyone he knows, it’s only fair that he knows _this_ , as well.

_‘Martin,_

_I just hope you know what you’re doing._

_I love you.’_

Once again, Jon doesn’t get a reply for the rest of his shift. It is late at night, maybe Martin has gone home, he reasons to himself as he packs up his things and convinces himself not to drop by his desk again on his way out.

The next day he still doesn’t get an answer, but he does his best to shrug it off. At 2, a mug of tea still appears on his desk, along with a light snack, but the usual accompanying note is nowhere to be found. Jon almost resigns himself to never hearing from Martin again. Maybe Lukas caught wind of their communication, maybe he was too forward, and Martin thinks he had ulterior motives this whole time. (He honestly did, but they were mainly of the ‘figure out a way to actually talk to Martin again’ variety, without any romantic intention.)

But Georgie hasn’t affectionately nicknamed Jon ‘Stubborn Bastard’ for nothing.

He’s never particularly cared if his actions come across as annoying to other people, which is probably why they so often do, and he isn’t about to start now. Every day he finds some excuse or other to drop a note off at Martin’s desk. The flowers outside his apartment began to bloom. The Admiral has done something ridiculously cute – a recurring theme. Daisy laughed so hard at lunch that she snorted her coffee out her nose and upended her entire bowl of pasta.

He continues not to hear anything back but persists anyway.

When the archival staff gets wind of Melanie’s therapist being an avatar of the web, Jon devises as half-cocked a plan as he ever does and gets Basira and Daisy in on it. He’s learning, albeit slowly. Helen, who is the one to bring Melanie to Jon’s attention in the first place, is to help him get into the spider’s lair (despite Daisy’s multiple attempts to get them to call it Annabelle’s web, the name won’t stick- Goddammit, she’s got him making unintentional spider puns).

Just before setting out, Jon stares into the space on his desk above the post-it he’s tapping with a pen. Martin hasn’t been replying, might not even notice if something goes wrong and Jon stops leaving him messages, but something is nagging at him to say something before he leaves.

 _‘Martin,_  
Melanie has been taken by Annabelle, so we are off to get her back. Don’t worry too much, we’ve survived worse.  
Jon’

He peels it off of his pad and walks it up to Martin’s desk before returning to where the women are waiting, fully armed, to go on a rescue mission. Nervously, he turns to Helen, who has an angrier, more determined look than anything Jon has ever attempted to see through the distortion that clouds her face. She whips up a door and, exchanging a look with Basira and Daisy, gestures Jon through it.

The plan isn’t so bad, compared to the time that he walked blindly into a coffin that trapped and buried people forever. Jon would go through the door to the closest location that Helen could manage to the house where Melanie was being held. The two of them are to find the address and call Basira and Daisy right away, then wait for them to arrive with whatever backup they can manage to scrounge up from their days on the force in the meantime. Jon has been specifically and repeatedly instructed not to do anything stupid.

Then he hears Melanie scream, bloodcurdling and bone-chilling. He remembers how he couldn’t save Sasha, Tim, and now even Martin, and decides that he isn’t about to lose another assistant because he sat around and didn’t do anything to actually help them.

Jon runs out the door, ignoring Helen’s angry cries, and into the cobweb coated house. He flicks on his lighter, trying to ignore the design and instead focus on the thought that fire can destroy a spider’s nest.

Melanie screams again, and he follows the noise down a hall until it becomes muffled, like something is covering her mouth. Jon breaks into a sprint and bursts into the room where Annabelle and Melanie are, Knowing without even trying.

Annabelle stands over Melanie, who is wrapped up like a spider’s prey and heaving with muffled sobs. Her eyes turn hopeful, and then frightened when she sees Jon. He steps forward determinedly and then falls to the floor.

Jon awakes with an ache in his head and absolutely no bodily function. Vaguely, he thinks that he must be tied down before he looks up and sees Annabelle standing over him, eyes glowing golden as she grins down vacantly. Despite the fact that nothing is physically holding him in place, her gaze and the Power from her deity keep him from being able to stand.

“You cannot break our ritual the way you have broken the others, Archivist,” she informs him steadily, “We are more powerful than you.”

“Well, Annabelle,” Jon replies dryly, “I suppose you’re right. I certainly haven’t met anyone who believes themselves more powerful than my team yet. Do carry right on with your ritual.”

Annabelle straightens herself and smiles. “We will continue to convert Melanie without your interference, and then we will be along to convert you as well. And if you are too far gone in your service to the Beholding, we will find something else to do with you.”

Jon is flooded with the Knowledge that he is, in fact, too far gone in his service to the Beholding.

“Have a nice week, Archivist. We will be around to collect you eventually. You don’t need to eat anymore, right? I wonder how long you can last without your statements. Isn’t curiosity your domain?”

The door shuts behind her, trapping Jon in the room with her taunts. He struggles in the metal folding chair he has been unable to move from, only to look down and realize that while he was distracted, the spiders around the room have made quick work of covering him in enough layers of web to keep him from leaving any time soon.

Martin will be pissed.

If he notices.

There are webs covering the windows, thick enough that they block out any light and hinder Jon from being able to tell if it is night or day. He really does not want to die, especially at the hands of the Spider. There has been enough foreshadowing in his life though, he supposes, that it would make sense that this would be it for him.

Jon alternates between sleeping and staring at a spot on the floor, unable to do anything else, finding it difficult to Know if his team is coming for him and Melanie without his head being filled with static. So he waits, and he trusts in them to follow through with their plan.

He’s completely spaced out when the door swings open, startling him in his chair. Of all people, Lukas stands in the doorway, looking extremely put upon.

“Well, Archivist, you certainly seem to have a habit of getting yourself in ridiculous situations.” Lukas suddenly grins wide enough that it’s unsettling, and Jon leans away.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m getting you out. Do you need me to _untie_ you as well? Really, the Eye doesn’t look out for its own, does it?”

“You’re getting me out,” Jon repeats.

“Yes, Archivist, you are my employee, after all.”

He doesn’t buy that for a minute.

“Why do you care?” Jon glares up at him.

Lukas sighs in a bored sort of way and examines his fingernails. “I really don’t. Unfortunately for me, your little boyfriend has tasked me with keeping you alive in exchange for his…work.”

“Is that what you’re having Martin do? Stay Lonely as payment for our protection?” Jon strains against the web still keeping him in the chair. “You _knew_ he would be the most vulnerable to you and your entity, but you snapped him up and are torturing him, you _bastard-“_

Unaffected, Lukas holds up one hand, “I’m just serving my Power, Archivist. Just because you won’t let yourself enjoy your work does not mean none of us can. Your Martin will be fine.”

Jon scowls deeply, still trying to wiggle free of his bonds but unable to respond. It could be due to the exhaustion or the fact that even he must have an idea that arguing with the literal human embodiment of a fear entity that has been sent to save him may not be the best thing to do. It’s probably the exhaustion.

The door behind Lukas opens to reveal Basira and Daisy, guns at the ready and with Melanie already in tow. Their boss is already gone by the time Jon turns back to him to offer some snide remark, but he still swears at the wall before looking to the women to release him. Daisy passes Melanie off to Helen, who has appeared a door in the room, and cuts Jon out of his chair, pulling his arm over her shoulder where Melanie had been.

“Thank you,” he rasps out.

“If you do something like this again, I’m leaving you for dead,” Daisy says, eyes fixed in front of them as Basira leads them out of the spider’s web. Jon knows she doesn’t mean it, if only from the way her voice breaks.

“Understood.”

They reconvene at the Institute to clean their wounds and drink some of their fears away. No one mentions the fact that all of them feel more comfortable and safer in their little archival basement than their own homes.

Jon can probably blame it on the whiskey when he stumbles to Martin’s desk, post-it note in hand, and falls asleep there. A little pink paper stuck haphazardly to Martin’s desktop screen.

_‘Marti I got kidnapped again. Feel like I shouldn’t make a habit of it, but four is such an awkward number to stop at. When you’re done being Lonely, I think I should like to kiss you._

_Jonny’_

He awakes with a splitting headache, a blanket draped on his shoulders, and the horrifying, dawning realization of what he did. Jon shoots up to look at the computer screen and immediately regrets the action both because of the splitting headache it causes and the sight of a completely bare screen. It’s only then he realizes his vision is partially obscured by a pale post-it striped with blue, pink, and white.

Jon peels the note off his forehead and feels the blood draining from his head in anticipation.

_‘“Jonny”_

_I think I would be alright with that. Drinks first, though.’_

Letting out a light laugh, Jon buries his head in his arms for a second to drink in the relief and giddiness flooding his brain and flushing out the pain. Eventually, he realizes Martin will eventually need his desk back. He whispers a “sorry,” to the air and slinks back to his office to look for his assistants and, hopefully, a hangover cure.

On his desk is a bottle of water and another of pain killers, though he isn’t sure if they’re from the girls or someone else. He downs three pills and drinks half of the water before he notices the notes littering his desk.

_‘Jon, please tell me you’re not doing anything stupid.’_

_‘It’s been two days, Jon, answer me.’_

_‘Come back. I didn’t do this so that you could just leave again.’_

_‘We need you here. I need you here.’_

_‘You’re an absolute bastard.’_

_‘I love you.’_

He tucks the notes in the corner of his drawer, on top of a pile of similar ones, and lets himself take a minute to grin ridiculously into his palm.

Martin doesn’t come swooping back in.

He doesn’t take Jon into his arms and kiss him and hold him and tell him everything will be alright. But that’s fine. Jon may fantasize all he likes, but he understands that Martin can’t risk what he’s doing and all that he’s been through for one moment of romance. Still, he feels himself being gently wooed as their confessions of mutual feelings is accompanied by little notes in Martin’s careful, bubbly scrawl containing poems about winter aesthetics and odes to brown eyed men.

It takes time, it takes planning, it takes hundreds more post-its charged with an energy Jon hadn’t noticed before, but they eventually get to a place where Martin feels they no longer need the assistance of the Lonely.

Jon knows the time is drawing closer – though whether he knows or Knows, he can’t tell – but has no idea how close it actually is until he sees a little cartoon bear on his desk. The instruction to _‘Turn around’_ is made much less ominous by the three little hearts that follow it, and Jon has trouble finding it in himself to deny Martin anything as he swivels quickly around in his chair. At the sight of the other man finally, _finally,_ in front of him, Jon stands quickly but is almost afraid to move any closer.

“Hi, Jon,” Martin says shyly, waving one hand. The sound of his voice actually in the room and not over a recording makes Jon’s knees weak, but instead of falling back onto his chair, he starts forward and very nearly flings himself into Martin’s arms.

To his credit, Martin just laughs and catches him, tucking his nose into Jon’s shoulder and tangling one hand in his hair.

“Are you,” Jon pulls away, breath and hope caught in his throat, “Are you back?”

“Yes, Jon,” Martin almost sounds exasperated, but impossibly fond, “I’m here to stay. With you. All of you.”

As if he’s not sure he’s allowed to say something like so forward, Martin flushes and corrects himself. His manners have turned into a mixture of the confident voice Jon has been hearing over the tapes that turn up on his desk and the Martin from before the events with the Stranger’s ritual. Jon can’t blame him, he’s hardly acting himself at the moment, so he blames it on the shock and excitement and carries on cupping Martin’s face in both his hands.

“You grew a beard,” Jon breaths, and Martin laughs, “It’s nice.”

“I did, yeah,” And then his tone takes on that of the new Martin, who is tired of dancing around things and getting questions for answers, “Are you going to follow through on your promise?”

“I thought you said drinks first,” Jon can’t help but tease, but the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s pulling Martin down and kissing him firmly on the lips. Something about it completely cements in Jon’s mind that Martin is truly back. He’s here, and he isn’t going to disappear again.

His arms wrap around Jon’s waist and pull them closer together and Jon thinks that maybe, just maybe, the little family they have formed in the archives can truly stop the upcoming apocalypses.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SO SELF INDULGENT BUT FUN TO WRITE  
> I just want them to be happy Jonny Sims do NOT interact!!!  
> my podcast blog is @theritaminute !!


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